Keep Your Distance
by julien-schu
Summary: A series of drabbles centering on Cliff and Albel from Star Ocean: Til the End of Time. Spoilers for further entries.
1. Call It a Hunch

**_Call It a Hunch_**

* * *

He just couldn't stop staring. Exposed midriff? Fine. Bare shoulders? Used to 'em.

Albel's thigh, however, was another story. Cliff simply could not help looking at it. Every step Albel took offered a glimpse of the man's pale upper leg, and it took a great deal of effort from Cliff to look away.

It was a bit strange really, how he found Albel (and especially Albel's left thigh) so--well, fascinating. Yes, fascinating. That was it. Even though there were plenty of nice-looking Klausians back home, not to mention the people from other planets, who walked around wearing less. Oh, forget _them,_ Nel's and her two subordinates' clothing revealed more than Albel's... whatever it was; Cliff refused to think of it as a skirt with one hell of a slit, even though that was exactly what it looked like.

It was worse in battle; every time Albel did that Shockwave Swirl move of his, Cliff could see more leg, and found himself wishing he could see even more, something he was not too comfortable with.

Since, well, Albel's a bit of a psychopath. Okay, psychopath may be a bit pushing it (then again, perhaps not), but it was the closest thing Cliff could think of.

A psychopath who walks around with his left thigh exposed.

Good-looking too, if he would stop that scowling and sneering.

_Damn._

"Look out!"

Cliff instinctively dodged aside when he heard Fayt's warning, evading a swing from one of the monsters before the blonde counterattacked with a flurry of punches and kicks. It would take more than that silly move to take down a Klausian, but he still felt a little guilty on how he had let his guard down.

He saw Albel, who had just finished off one of the monsters with that Palm of Destruction move--dear gods, that move was even more powerful than the Shockwave Swirl and not to mention it showed even more of Albel's upper leg--_what the hell am I thinking?!_

Albel must have noticed his tiny lapse of concentration earlier; the swordsman scowled in his direction and said something. Cliff did not hear what he said, but the Klausian read his lips.

_'Fool,'_ Albel had uttered.

Cliff agreed with him, and promptly ran off to engage the next enemy, hoping to relieve some of his frustrations by pounding some oversized lizards to their doom. Not to mention where he could stay away from tantalising glimpses of a certain swordsman's bare upper leg.

_This isn't going to get any easier,_ Cliff thought.

_Call it a hunch._


	2. Payback

**_Payback_**

* * *

Author's note: For maiki.

* * *

I wonder if Fayt or Nel would conjure up some ice. I sure could use some now.

The heat was not as unbearable as it was outside, but Cliff was still more than just a little bothered by it. _How can anyone live in a place like this?_ he wondered as he watched the rabbit-like creature--Vanilla; Cliff simply could not help but immediately think of a nice, cold tub of icecream upon hearing the creature's name--working at the small forge, busy working on the Ring of Disintegration the party required.

A forge.

Indoors.

And outdoors just happened to be the Urssa Lava Caves.

Cliff found himself wondering if all the inventors on the planet were crazy. _Anyone had to be at least a few sandwiches short of a picnic to live in place like this_, he mused, absent-mindedly tugging down the zipper of his vest further down before he wiped off the beads of sweat on his neck.

The unfamiliar sound of the zipper must have gotten Albel's attention, for the swordsman looked up from where he sat at the table. Cliff took no notice of it, until he realised some moments later that Albel was still looking at him.

"What?" Cliff asked.

Albel scowled, as if annoyed that he was caught staring. "Why do you have those tattoos on your neck?" he asked, somewhat grudgingly.

"Huh? What tattoos?" Cliff said, puzzled. "Oh, you mean these lines on my neck? They're not tattoos. I was born with 'em."

"A birthmark?"

Cliff shrugged. "Something like that. All Klausians have 'em," he said, at the same time wondering just what had possessed Albel to actually make conversation. A decent conversation, in fact; one that did not have the words 'fool', 'maggot' or 'worm' at the end of each sentence. 

It must be the heat. It had to be.

Albel threw a quick glance at Maria and Fayt before he frowned.

"They don't have these marks. They're not Klausians," Cliff explained.

Albel snorted. "How ridiculous."

_Okay, so much for decent conversation._

"Ridiculous? Hey pal, there's nothing ridiculous about it. At least I'm not the one running around with pigtails."

The anger burning in Albel's eyes when he glared at Cliff was far hotter than anything the Urssa Lava Caves and its fiery inhabitants had to offer. _"Pigtails?"_ he snarled.

"Yeah, what else would you call those things trailing from your head?"

"They are _not_ pigtails!"

"Well, they sure look like 'em to me!"

"Then you are obviously a fool and blind," Albel growled as he stood, eyes menacing.

_Oops._

"Why are you two snarling at each other?" Fayt interrupted, blissfully unaware of their conversation. "Come on, we've got the ring. Let's go."

Cliff mentally noted that he owed Fayt a favour. He followed the blue-haired young man and the rest of the party out the door, and hid a grin when he heard Albel muttering under his breath. "Pigtails indeed!" grumbled the swordsman.

_Consider it payback for all those times you flashed that thigh, Albel._

Pigtails indeed.


	3. Never Misses A Thing

* * *

_**Never Misses A Thing **_

* * *

Despite his seemingly easygoing--although there are some in his company who would opt for the term, 'reckless'--ways, Cliff Fittir was not the brash, devil-may-care man he portrayed himself to be; well, not _completely_ anyway, he privately admitted. He preferred to make other people think that he _was_ though, for several reasons. 

It made procuring information easier for one thing; Cliff found it amusing sometimes, how people would let a lovely tidbit of information slip unnoticed whenever they struck a conversation with him. Confident they were merely dealing with some obtuse, brawn-oriented fool, they would let their guard down and pay less attention to what they were saying. A seemingly innocent, yet carefully placed question here; a confused look that was guaranteed to induce frustration to the other party--which could lead to more explanation and yes, more information--there, and Cliff would walk out of the room armed with all the facts he came for, perhaps even more.

It was how he got Quark running in its early years; people paid little attention to him, allowing him to pool all the necessary resources to develop the organisation into what it is today. No one expected someone like _him_ to be nothing more than a harmless meddler, something which they later regretted when it was time to conduct diplomatic dealings with a planet Quark chose to represent. Cliff enjoyed the negotiations; to be precise, he enjoyed the stunned looks on assorted officials' faces when the man they had dismissed as a 'harmless meddler' was in fact one of the chief negotiators for the planet they had hoped to take advantage of. The looks on the officials' faces when he overturned their agreements, and thus securing a far better deal for the planet Quark sided with however, was even _better._

As Quark grew into a bigger and more formidable organisation, Cliff found it much harder to convincingly maintain the devil-may-care image he had carefully cultivated. After all, even the most intelligence-challenged person would realise sooner or later that the leader of such an organisation could not be such a total _idiot._ Still, aside from certain circles in the Federation and other independent planets, not many people even _knew_ who Quark's leader was, so Cliff figured that it was worth pretending to be somewhat obtuse for a while longer.

When Maria assumed the leadership of Quark, there were quite a few who thought that their previous leader would be slighted. On the contrary, Cliff was more than happy to step into the role of second-in-command. It allowed for him to do what he did best; doing work on the ground and gathering information. Fieldwork was his forte; his duties as Quark's leader did not allow him to do much of that when the organisation had grown. Cliff was far happier on the ground; he could slip into his happy-go-lucky persona again, something he had missed greatly. He felt that he could contribute more to Quark this way--and not to mention that this way just so happened to be a bit more fun and interesting.

Cliff was a Klausian, which meant that he had reflexes, senses and strength superior to those of humans. This also meant that he could do many things that humans could not, such as observe things that humans could not see; hear whispered conversations that were out of any human's hearing, but not his; perform stunning displays of athletic prowess, and other feats.

He was rather proud of the fact that he could be half-asleep in bed, and yet he would never miss a thing.

One such example was when Nel came to his and Fayt's room to say good-bye before she went after her subordinates; all it took to wake Cliff from sleep was the soft, almost unnoticeable creak of the door as it opened. He had kept his eyes closed, but he had not needed to see to know that it was Nel who had entered the room, for all he needed to recognise her was the sound of her voice; the softly spoken words, was loud and clear to him.

He never misses a thing.

And right now, Cliff did not need to strain his hearing to know that Albel Nox was muttering curses under his breath. The Klausian had entered the galley to find the swordsman facing away from him, but Cliff knew by the set of the man's shoulders, and the movement of his elbows that Albel was holding something in his hands--and glowering at it.

"--accursed, wretched, stupid contraption--"

The string of words came to a halt when Albel realised he was no longer alone, and Cliff suppressed a snicker when Albel turned around and glared at him. "Hey Nox," he said in greeting.

Albel merely snorted before he strode to the other end of the galley in a whirl of purple and steel and sat down at a table, his back towards Cliff, as if demonstrating his _extreme_ displeasure of having the Klausian in his presence.

"Well, good to see you up and about," Cliff said as he opened the refrigerator and got himself a can of beer. As he expected, he only got a grunt from Albel in reply. Shrugging, he leant back against the counter and held the can of beer up. "You know," he said, "there's nothing like enjoying a nice, cool, chug of this at the end of the day." Still holding the can aloft, he hooked his finger around the tab ring and tugged it back, opening the can. He took one long draught from the can of beer--and out of the corner of his eye, noticed that Albel glanced at him for a long moment--before he sighed in appreciation. "Man, now that was good."

"Whatever, fool."

Cliff shrugged again and finished his beer before tossing the empty can in the bin. Albel was _not_ in a good mood; then again, Cliff doubted that anyone would be in a good mood after being shot by the Vendeeni. This meant that the odds of the swordsman losing his temper and would start destroying things had increased by at least thrice-fold, and Cliff was far too fond of the Diplo to have even a bit of it smashed to bits--especially from the inside!--and that he was too tired to deal with an enraged Albel should the man indeed go berserk.

Not to mention that Mirage and Maria would kill him if he _did_ provoke Albel into a destructive rampage aboard the ship.

Besides, he was certain that he had taken care of what Albel was losing his temper at earlier. He resisted the urge to chuckle and instead left the galley, throwing only a quick glance at Albel before he left. The younger man was still sitting at the table, but Albel did meet his gaze and acknowledged him with a quick nod before turning away.

Cliff headed for the bridge, whistling. He had noticed when Albel stormed across the galley earlier, the swordsman was cradling something in his artificial hand--even hiding it, Cliff would say. Anyone else would have missed it, but not Cliff.

Cliff also knew that Albel would rather go to extremes than to ask for assistance of any sort. It was far easier just to show Albel how something was done, provided that it was done in a way that would not offend the man's pride; hence the act of getting a drink in order to discreetly show Albel how to open a can of beer.

Heck, he didn't even like beer all that much. He hoped Albel enjoyed _his,_ if it meant the galley being spared from an impromptu demonstration of deadly swordsmanship.

He did however, notice the look on Albel's face. It was only for a fleeting instant, but it was there; Albel was not glaring, nor was he scowling, but he had what Cliff thought was an amused look on his face. And not the sort of amused look Albel had when the swordsman had just dispatched three dozen enemies all in a span of less than a minute either, but the sort of amused look someone would have when something genuinely pleasant--and with no blood in sight--happened.

For that fleeting instant, Albel actually looked somewhat amiable, before his face resumed its glowering expression. And for that fleeing instant, Cliff thought that Albel was not all that bad after all.

Cliff never misses a thing, and he's proud of it.


End file.
